Love Changes Us
by darlaranger
Summary: Change comes with love. Chapter 8: They both need a little time.
1. Bodily Fluids

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Bodily Fluids

Summary: Sara comes home to a man sleeping on her couch.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as _Homebodies_ was.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

_And, on with the show:_

"Sara," Catherine called after the woman as she pulled at the handle to open the door, "are you going to talk to him today?"

Sara stopped and turned. "I don't know, Cath. We've never talked about it. I don't even know where to start. I'm just afraid that he'll say no." She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and fingered the fabric nervously.

"You've got to tell him sometime. This isn't something that's just going to go away you know."

"I know, I know. I'm going to tell him, I just need to figure out someway to broach the subject. That's all." Thinking that they were done, Sara turned again to leave, but the other woman placed a hand upon her shoulder, staying her.

"Sara, he's not going to turn tail and run away, trust me. When I first had this discussion with Eddie, I had the same thoughts going through my head. But I was just overreacting, he didn't."

With a timid smile upon her face, Sara turns back and gives her friend a quick hug. "I know, I'm just worried I guess. I've got to go now, he's expecting me. I'll talk to you tonight, okay?"

Holding on for just a moment, trying to give a little encouragement through the hug, Catherine nods and pulls away. "Good luck," she says quietly to Sara's retreating form, "to both of you."

Sara pulled her keys out of her jacket pocket and tried to open the door quietly. Once inside, she pulled off her jacket and dropped it at her feet, "Later," she decided as she contemplated picking it up. She put her hand on the wall and used that to find her way through the house, she didn't want to turn the lights on if she didn't have to.

She found him in the living room lying on the couch, wearing just a pair of paint-stained sweatpants and a t-shirt. His shoes and socks were on the floor, barely visible. His eyes were closed and one arm hung down to touch the floor, the other as a pillow between his head and the armrest. From the magazine that was half falling off his chest, she could tell that he'd been reading there, waiting for her to come home, when he'd fallen asleep.

Beauty wasn't a word that she'd normally associate with this man, unless one was talking about his eyes. No, normally she'd have called him _handsome,_ maybe even _rugged,_ maybe, but only after a few drinks. But right, in sleep, he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. And he was hers.

She toed off her shoes in the doorway, still watching him sleep, and then went over to kneel at his side, placing a kiss on his forehead. He stirred immediately at the touch of her hot lips to his cool skin.

"Hey," he said smiling, "sorry, I was waiting for you, I guess I fell asleep." He swung his legs off the couch and sat up as she stood up. "You're home early," he said and grabbed her arm to pull her onto his lap.

"Slow night, Catherine sent me home to take care of you. But you must be feeling better then? Because if you are, I can just go back to work..." She grinned evilly.

"You know, as far as Catherine's concerned, I've still got that flu you gave me. So, wanna go to bed and collect some fluid samples? You know, for diagnostic purposes only?" His hands started to move from their place on her back to the hem of her shirt, lifting it up just a little bit, and slipping his thumb under the fabric to rub his thumb in circles over her bare skin.

She smiled and leaned into him to catch her mouth with his. "Tell you what," she said after pulling away from him, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip as she did so, "I'm going to go take a shower and when I'm done, we can find out just how much fluid-swapping you're up for." She patted him on the knee and then got up out of his embrace.

When she reached the doorway to the hall, she turned back to look at him, thinking back on her conversation with Catherine earlier. Now was as good a time as any to talk to him. "Hey, Gris," she said.

"Hmmm," he responded, pausing.

"I..."

He stood there looking at her. She could see his desire for her, as well as the sleep still fading from his eyes, and decided that now was **not **the right time.

Now was a time for making love and feeling love--not for discussing things that could threaten the happiness in her heart. And so, as with her jacket earlier, she decided that tomorrow would be a better day.

"Nothing, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, that's all."

He stood up straight, "Sara, I...I love you too."


	2. The Body in the Mirror

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: The Body in the Mirror

Summary: A Shower all Alone

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as _Homebodies_ was.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

**Thanks to Sara Grissom for the first review. It's ALWAYS about the Geek Love!**

_And, on with the show:_

Sara stepped out of the shower onto the rug in front of the wall-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She reached for the thick white towel on the countertop across from where she stood, and began to dry herself off. When she was satisfied that she wouldn't drip water throughout the house, she wrapped the towel around her body and tucked it tight into a bit of a knot. She reaches for the doorknob but then catches sight of herself in mirror—stops, and lets the towel drop.

She sees a woman, rather naked and overrun with goose bumps as her skin catches the draft coming in through under the bathroom door. Her hair is longer than she remembers it being. It must have grown during the past few months. She really ought to get it cut—it's been getting in the way at work—but Grissom seems to like it at its current length. He's always running the strands between his fingers as they lie in bed together, her backside cradled to his chest.

Her body has changed too. She's filled out a bit and Grissom can no longer count her ribs through her skin. He's been making her eat—making sure that she actually remembers to eat, and that she eats in a semi-balanced manner. And though she's yet to convince him that chocolate is an essential food group of its own, she is paying more attention to basic needs like that.

But it's more than just extra weight on the scale—the big changes are where the weight has gone. She's got curves now that she never had before. Her hips have widened, giving her walk a delightful swish that Grissom seems to really enjoy watching. Her face has rounded a bit too; her cheek bones are no longer sharp enough to cut glass. But the biggest changes are on her chest.  Her newly sensitive breasts have grown almost to the point where she can no longer fit into her biggest bras without some discomfort.

And then there's her abdomen. She turns sideways to look at it.

Yep, she's got a little pouch there now. Of course, like all women, she always had one, but this one is a bit bigger, and it's hard, harder than she ever expected it to be. She moves her hands up and places them on the bit of protruding flesh there.

She's surprised he hasn't noticed these last two lately. He's had plenty of opportunities during the night in the moments before work when her pants require a bit more effort than normal to zip up, or when his arm accidentally brushes against her chest and she gives a large gasp. Or during the day, when making love to her breasts with his mouth, or kissing over every inch of skin on her body.

But he didn't, and for quite awhile, neither did she.

_3 days ago…_

_ Sara walked into the locker room, grumbling about inept police officers who couldn't even hold their stomachs at a standard death by gunshot case. She wondered how the young man would fare if he ever had to work with a decomp, or a floater, or some of the atrocities she had seen lately. _

_She went over to her locker and opened it, slamming the door against its neighbor, as she hurriedly stripped out of her jeans and shirt so that she was standing there in just a bra and panties. Catherine entered as Sara was routing through her locker for the extra pair of clothes she was **sure** she had in there._

_"Hey, you okay" Catherine asked as she took a seat on the bench near Sara._

_"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm always fine when rookie cops spill their guts all over my clothes. Just dandy. In fact, I'd be perfect if I could just find my extra clothes."_

_"I think you used your extra set about a week ago—after we had to go wading through __Lake Mead__ to get at that body at the bottom?"_

_"Damn, you're right. I forgot to bring a new set. Now I'll have to smell like partially digested salami for the rest of the night. Rookies..."_

_Catherine moved closer to Sara, braving the smelly clothes and vicious temper, "Are you sure you're okay?"_

_Sara sat down, "Yeah, I'm just a little pissed at that cop, that's all."_

_"Are you pissed at him because he threw up on you? Or are you pissed at yourself because half the vomit on your clothing is your own?"_

_Sara looked up sharply, "What? What are you talking about?"_

_"When you went to 'clean up' you barely made it into the bathroom of the theater before doing the same yourself. You didn't even make it to a stall. I know because I followed to see if you were okay, you've been doing that quite a bit lately—usually with a little better aim though."_

_For a moment, Sara doesn't know what to say, "I've just been feeling a little off lately, that's all. Probably some flu I picked up somewhere. Wasn't Greg out with something last week? I probably just caught that."_

_Catherine smiled, "Unless you caught a tall redhead in bed, I'm pretty sure you don't have what Greg 'had' last week." Catherine paused and looked at Sara's face, noticing the fatigue and barely hidden worry just below the façade of carefree happiness that she was trying to put on. "Sara, I know about you and Gil. I know that the two of you have been sleeping together and that you've begun a rather serious relationship outside of work."_

_"How?"_

_"For the past six months, the two of you have come to work exactly 5 minutes apart and each with a gigantic smile upon your face. You've not maxed out on overtime for about the same period, and you and Gil, while not advertising your rekindled friendship, have been on civil terms at work. It wasn't a flying leap to take."_

_"Does anyone else know?"_

_"No."_

_"Good," Sara turned her head to the wall, focusing on the pattern of the bricks there._

_"Sara…" Catherine started, tentatively._

_"I'm pregnant."  The words surprise her; she hadn't meant to tell anyone.  She hasn't even said the words aloud to herself yet._

_"Are you sure? How far along are you? What did Gil say?" Though she had been secretly anticipating this situation, Catherine's enthusiasm was not dampened in any way._

_"I'm pretty sure, I haven't taken a test yet, but I recognize the symptoms—nausea, dizziness, irritability, increased sensitivity of breasts, and most importantly, a missed period, or two. And I haven't told Gris yet, I'd appreciate it if you didn't either. I'm not sure if I'm going to."_

_"Oh, Sara," Catherine's voice took on a mothering quality, "why?"_

_"Because I'm pretty sure that he doesn't want children. I'm not even sure if I want children."_

_"Sara…what are you going to do?"_

_"I don't know; can we just let it go for a bit? We've got to get back to work—I've got to get some clothes, and so on."_

_Catherine puts her arm around the younger woman, "If you want to talk, if you need to, I'm always here, ok?" Sara nods and Catherine goes to her locker and pulls out a duffel bag. She throws it to Sara, "These won't really fit you, but they'll do for the ride to your place."_

Sara wraps herself up in the towel again, the conversation with Catherine echoing in her mind, and walks out of the bathroom and down the hall to her bedroom. She goes in and finds Gris exactly where she knew he would be—in bed, fast asleep. For a minute, she considered waking him, if not to discuss the situation with him, then just to feel his body pressed hard against hers, moving over her—to feel him as he loved her.

But she was tired too and instead grabbed the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier and pulled it over her head. Then she threw the towel in the corner and got into bed, scooting as close as possible to him. He moved toward her and even extended his arm as if to take her to him. But she just took hold of it and pressed it against her heart—_see how my heart beats for you_—and joined him in sleep.


	3. Imagine the Future

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Imagine the Future

Summary: A talk between the sheets.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as _Homebodies_ was.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

Rating: We might be hitting "R" territory in this one.

**Thanks to all my reviewers. I wasn't really expecting any and so each and every one of them made my day.**

_And, on with the show:_

Sara woke to the patter of raindrops on the window next to the bed. Well, actually, what really woke her up was the feeling of someone's warm, wet mouth tracing an invisible line down the back of her neck and over her shoulders. Then there were the hands, one on her thigh and the other making lazy circles on her stomach, dipping lower and lower with every stroke. It was the feel of his hand on her stomach, and the feeling of guilt that threatened to rise in her throat that made her turn to face him instead of continuing to enjoy his delightful ministrations.

"Well, hello there," she said playfully, reaching down to grab the hand on her stomach and intertwine their fingers. She brought it up to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "You fell asleep on me last night."

He looks up at her with those blue eyes that always seem clearer in the moments after waking, "You could've woken me. As I recall, we had been discussing fluid collection—and as I find our discussions on that topic absolutely fascinating, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have complained."

She grinned; this is what she loved the most about him, his ability to be objective and rational, scientific, even during their most intimate moments in bed.

"Well," she said as she reached up to curl her fingers through his hair, "I wanted you to rest. You've been sick and old fellas like yourself take a bit longer to recover."

Immediately she could feel the affect her words had had on him, he stiffened and the hand that had been moving upwards on her thigh stilled. The age issue had always been one of the larger obstacles in their relationship. At first, it was one of the many reasons for his refusal to get involved with her, but he had gotten over it with her continual love and support. It didn't mean that the issue had completely been erased from his mind though, there were moments—like now—when it crept into his head, taunting him and completely taking hold of his rational thought.

"Hey, I…I'm sorry." She removed her hand from his and brought it up to caress his cheek. "I didn't mean that, it was just a jo-"

He covered her mouth gently with his hand, "Shhh, I know. It just caught me for a moment, that's all," and then he replaced his hand with his mouth, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair. After a few moments, he pulls back, "Ready to swap samples now?"

She laughs and rolls them over so that she's sitting on top of him. "You bet."

He reaches for the bottom of the shirt she's wearing, "Ma'am, this isn't your shirt. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take it as evidence." With a grin stretching from one corner of his face to the other, he begins to shimmy the fabric up her stomach, planting tiny kisses with every inch.

"But Officer," she pleads as she pretends to be concerned; "I'll have nothing to wear if you take my shirt."

"I know."

The rain has stopped and the shirt in question earlier is now crumpled in a corner, next to a pair of boxers. The couple in bed is silent now, waiting for their heart rates to return to a normal range. Their hands are linked together, held tight to her chest. Griss can feel her heart racing under his fingers. He cranes his head to check the clock—only a few hours before they have to pretend that they can barely tolerate each other's presence. With a sigh he kisses her hair, "Go back to sleep, we've got a few hours yet."

Instead of complying, she takes a deep breath to steady herself, willing herself courage.

"Griss?"

"Really, we've got a couple of hours. You can go back to sleep." He pulls her a little closer, as if he thinks it will help her sleep.

"No, I'm not worried about that. I was just wondering, do you…do you ever think about the future?"

"The future? Like in science fiction? Entirely implausible—no."

"No," she'd turn to face him but she doesn't think she's brave enough to look in his eyes and say the words that are catching in her throat. It's cowardly, she knows it, but Sara Sidle is allowed a cowardly action now and then. She can't be Superwoman all the time.

"No, I mean, do you ever think about your future? Do you think about what could happen? What the future could bring?"

"Sure, everyone does Sara, that's how we know there's something worth fighting for in the present."

"Do you…are there…do you ever imagine children in your future?" As she said the words, she began to brace herself for the answer, and knew it would not be the one she was hoping for. Because soon as the words were uttered, his body had stiffened against her—his arms had tightened involuntarily around her and he had removed his mouth from the back of her neck.

"Sara…I'm too old to be a father."


	4. From my Body to my Bugs

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: From my Body to my Bugs

Summary: More talking, a bit of anger.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I have 6 dollars in my checking account and maybe 30 in my savings. If CBS and Bruckheimer really want my last 36 bucks, they can have it, as long as it means we keep getting episodes as good as _Homebodies_ was.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

**Sorry for the lack of happenings in this one. I kind of backed myself into a corner with the last sentence of that last chapter and had to devote this one to breaking free. **

_And, on with the show:_

_"Sara, I'm too old to be a father."_

He said it with such an honest conviction that she could have laughed, would have laughed, if her heart hadn't started to break with his words.

"Too old? Why?" She might have turned to him, to see the emotions in his face for herself, but she was afraid he'd be able to look into her eyes and see the shards that used to be her heart. In the past she had been able to hide all her emotions from him, to secure them away and almost forget about them herself.  But now, now that they were involved, he was getting better at reading her, and she was getting worse at secreting things away.

"Sara. I'm 46 years old. I've been told time and time again that I'm a stubborn old goat who's become too set in his ways—most often by you. I don't think I can be altruistic enough to make room in my life for a child—it was hard enough to make room for you. Besides," he said and pulled a hand free from hers and began to stroke her thigh, "I didn't exactly have a normal childhood. I grew up with a deaf mother and an absentee father. I don't think I'd even have a clue on how to be somebody's father." His hand stopped stroking for a moment, "Where did all this come from, Sara?"

It took her less than a second to decide that she couldn't handle telling him the truth now. "Uh, an old roommate from college emailed me yesterday. She and her husband are expecting their first child. She asked if I ever planned on having children, that's all."

"And what did you tell her? Do you want children, Sara?"

"I told her that there was only one man I'd ever want children with and that it would depend on whether he wanted them or not."

"Sara…" Grissom breathed her name and nudged her until she rolled over and faced him. "Sara, if there was one person in the world I'd want to have children with, it'd be you. But more than the age issue, there's the issue of my hearing. It's a genetic condition; I would rather never have children then take the chance of passing it on to them."

"I see," Sara said, and deep down, she almost could. But that didn't help her current predicament.

Grissom must've sensed her sadness because he pulled her tight to him again, and kissed her forehead. Then he pulled back a bit so he could look her in the eyes, "Sara, I love you. I'll give you everything I have. From my body to my bug collection to my soul—it's all yours. But I don't think I could ever give you children, Sara, not in good conscience anyway."

Though she felt like crying, she put on a big fake smile and said, "I understand." But she didn't. Even though she hadn't been exactly sure she was ready for motherhood, she had been having little moments, almost like premonitions, of the future that could be. A small child sitting on her lap, holding her hand. And Grissom—Grissom standing next to her, holding the child in his arms. She had begun to hope for that future, that happy family in her dreams.

And now, all her hopes were gone.

"I'll be right back, I've got to pee." She started to get up from the bed and was almost to the door when the phone rang.

"I'll get it, it's my cell," he said, "you go on."

It took him a minute to find the phone and when he did he wasn't that happy to hear Catherine's voice in his ear.

_"Hey, are you feeling better?"_

"I was, and then you called. What's up? I'm not on for another couple of hours." He searched around on the floor for his boxers.

_"Yeah, I know. Listen, I gave Nick and Warrick a case that came in early this morning. It that sounded pretty easy—a single DB, but they called me just now saying they've got another vic, and a missing child. Sounded like they could use some extra help. I thought maybe you and Sara could come in early; I mean, if you've got nothing else planned…"_

"No problem, are we meeting you at the scene? Or at the lab?"

_"Labs good, that'll give us time to regroup."_

"Good, we'll see you in about a half an hour. Ohh, and Catherine?"

_"Yes,"_ her voice sounding excited.

"Sara's informed me that you know about our relationship. I'd just like to say thanks for not saying anything to anyone so far."

The enthusiasm gone from her voice, _"Ohhh, well, no problem.__ See you soon, Gil._'

Sara came out of the bathroom just after he'd hung up, "Who was that?"

Grissom pulled his boxers up, "Catherine, she wanted to know if we could come in early to help on a case. I told her we'd be there in a half an hour."

"What kind of case?"

"Not sure, multiple DBs though. I'm gonna go grab a shower, want to join me?"

"Uh, sure."

Sara turns around and heads back to the bathroom with Grissom close on her heels. The door to the bedroom closes slightly with the gust of wind their moving bodies create.

Sara is putting her purse into her locker when Catherine enters the room.

"You don't look happy, what's wrong, didn't Grissom take the news well?"

Sara closes the door hard and the sound it makes resonates through the room loudly, making her flinch. "I didn't tell him."

Catherine reaches for Sara's arm, "Sara, why? I thought you were going to tell him."

"I was, I broached the subject, and then he told me that he didn't want children."

"How exactly did you only "broach" the subject? And if you only "broached" the subject but didn't actually tell him, how do you know he doesn't want children?"

Sara sat down on the bench to tie her shoe, "I, um, well, I asked if he'd ever thought about having children. And then he said that he was too old to be a father. That he wouldn't know what to do if he were to become one. And then he brought up the hearing issue—he doesn't want children because he doesn't want to pass on his disease. I couldn't tell him after hearing that."

Tears start to fall from Sara's eyes and drip down her face. She tries to wipe them away, but they just keep coming. Catherine sits down next to her and puts her arms around Sara's body, comforting her.

"Honey, you should have just come out and said it. I know it might've seemed better to test the field a bit first, but you never want to do that with a man on this issue. Men will say that they don't want children all the time—until they're going to have one of their own, then they act as if children were always part of the plan. It's just their nature."

"I don't think so, Catherine," Sara managed to say between sniffles; "you didn't hear what he said. He was pretty sincere about it, he even said that he'd want children with me—if he were younger and if there were no risk of hearing problems. I don't think he'd change his mind."

Catherine silently cursed the man, and continued to try to calm Sara down. After a few minutes, the two women separated, Sara's tears drying and Catherine's face set in a half murderous rage-half sympathetic friend kind of look.

"Ready to go to work," she asked Sara.

"Yeah, let's go," Sara replied and headed for the door.

"Nick and Warrick are still at the scene. Why don't you go grab the Tahoe and I'll get Griss, we'll meet you out front."

"Catherine…you're not going to…"

"No, I'm not going to say anything; I just didn't think you'd want to explain why you'd been crying."

"Okay, thanks."

They parted ways and Catherine headed toward her boss' office. She didn't bother knocking on the closed door but instead barged right in. Grissom was surprised at this invasion and sat open-mouthed at his desk.

"We're ready to go, you coming" she said coldly, giving him a heated glare.

"Catherine, are you mad at me?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to tell me why?"

"No."

She turns around to leave, leaving him sitting there trying to figure out what he might've done.

"Women," he says with a sigh, thinking about Sara's somewhat odd questions earlier, "I'd sell my tarantulas just to understand them for a single moment."


	5. Behind the Curtain

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Behind the Curtain

Summary: Unfortunately, very little resolution for our Geeks. But there are dead bodies.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I now have about 52 bucks in my savings account but if CBS and Bruckheimer really want it they can have it. As long as _Butterflied_ turns out to be as awesome as it's sounding.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

**Sorry for the long time between updates. I got pretty caught up in "The Semester From Hell" and a few other matters and didn't have a lot of time for writing. But thanks to all of you who left reviews wondering about updates.**

_And, on with the show:_

Brass was waiting in the driveway, leaning against a squad car, when the teams pulled up. He stood up and walked over to them with a grim look upon his face. "I don't know if Rick or Nick radioed you guys with the situation yet," he said as the four of them walked to the front door of the house, "but we've got one dead body in the garage, one in the bathroom, and a missing six-month old baby." He opened the front door carefully and held it open for Sara, Catherine, and Grissom, before continuing. "The first body is one Mr. Evan Carmichael, 34, apparently killed by a shotgun blast to the chest. David's checking him out right now. Mr. Carmichael was found in the garage by a neighbor at around 6 o'clock this evening. Guy says he was just trying to return a saw he had borrowed about a week ago—that'll teach him to take things with out asking" He looks at Griss and says, "You're going to want a look at the DB though, he's right up your alley."

Grissom nods, "Insect evidence?"

"That's what I'm told." Brass shrugs, "The other vic was found in the bathroom, the bathtub actually. No confirmed ID yet—no one would go near the body—but from the photographs around the house, I'd say that she's Mrs. Carmichael. The missing child is the couple's son—one Jeremy Benjamin Carmichael. None of the neighbors know where he might be."

"Hey…." Nick said, walking in, "I saw the car outside. Griss, my man, glad you're back with us. Warrick and I are still processing the backyard. You're going to want to take a look at it. David places the time of death about a day ago, and there're plenty of your bug things there to back that estimate up. He's heading back to the lab for a bit, he already declared the wife dead."

Grissom stands for a moment, thinking. "Okay, Sara and Catherine, you two start on the woman in the bathtub; I'm going to check out the guy in the back with Warrick. Nick, you start looking into where the boy might be—babysitter, relatives, neighbors."

He turned and began to follow Nick to the yard. Catherine made a motion to move forward and say something to him, but Sara grabbed her arm and shook her head, "Let's check out that bathroom."

The bathroom, if it were clean, would be a bright, happy place. But it's not. Its white tile floors are covered in blood, blood that once ran through the veins of the woman curled up, face down, in the very large tub.

Sara feels her stomach twist and turn, but manages to keep her breakfast down. Her moment of uncertainty doesn't go unnoticed by Catherine though.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just give me a moment. My stomach's really been acting up today."

"Morning sickness, I remember it well. And don't miss it a bit. It should go away soon. Have you seen a doctor yet?"

"No, I only found out a week ago. I haven't had time to see a doctor, and I wanted... I wanted to tell Griss first, before I went to see a doctor. So that, depending on what we decided to do... well, you know."

Catherine turned to look at her, "Sara, promise me you'll go soon, as soon as you can. If you don't want to go alone, I'll go with you. But either way, you need to go and get yourself checked out."

Sara nodded, tears once again in the corner of her eyes, "Okay. Thanks."

Catherine put her hand on Sara's arm and the two stood for a moment like that.

"Okay, let's go, we've got a scene to process," Sara said, sniffling a bit, and took a step into the room.

They focused on the floor first, taking photographs of the blood spatter, making notes of the apparently velocity and directionality of the smears. Cautiously, careful not to disturb or contaminate anything, they made their way over to the actual bathtub. They talked little, only breaking the silence to share observations, and once when Catherine asked Sara why she had that goofy grin on her face.

"Keeps the gag reflex down," was Sara's somewhat wry reply.

They avoided the tub until the absolute last minute when finally, they had no more surfaces to print, no more splatter to document, no more trace to collect. They took photographs of the bathtub, of the half-closed plastic curtain partially blocking their view of the mutilated corpse.

Trying to lighten the mood, Catherine spoke, "I know you're probably thinking that that's a pretty big tub, but I once dated a guy with one much bigger. We once managed to fit nine strippers in there, plus him and his best friend. Now, that was one hell of a party."

Sara smiled slightly, "Catherine? Your social history absolutely astounds me."

"You know, your boyfriend once said something very similar to that."

The mention of Grissom killed the jovial mood they were trying to uphold, so they turned back to the tub. They both took a step toward it.

"Did you already photograph the placement of the curtain?" Sara asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, then I'm going to pull it back."

"Sounds good, I'll just stand here and pretend I'm somewhere else, somewhere pretty."

There is the sound of rustling plastic and then a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my God," Sara gasps, "Oh my God."

She quickly turns, her hand pressed tight against her mouth. She runs out of the bathroom grabbing an empty evidence bag on the way.

Catherine's torn between concern for her friend and curiosity about what caused this reaction. Figuring that she can help Sara better if she knows what's going on, she leans over for a look in the tub, then reaches for her cell phone and quickly dials.

"Griss? Call David. We found the boy."


	6. Cut Her Loose

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Cut Her Loose

Summary: Someone finally finds out, but not from the one he's supposed to.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I now have about 52 bucks in my savings account but if CBS and Bruckheimer really want it they can have it. As long as _Butterflied_ turns out to be as awesome as it's sounding. However, if they do take my cash, they'll have to live with the fact that no one will be getting any Christmas presents this year.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

_And, on with the show:_

"Oh my God," Sara gasps, "Oh my God."

She quickly turns, her hand pressed tight against her mouth. She runs out of the bathroom grabbing an empty evidence bag on the way. She makes it to the living room before she begins to throw up. With the bag held close to her mouth and the sounds of retching filling the air, she doesn't even hear Brass move behind her and ask her if she's all right. He moves her outside and sits her down on the porch, yelling at a young officer to grab a bottle of water from the squad. Finally, Sara's stomach stops its violent revolt and she sits weeping, on the porch.

With a grimace, Brass takes the bag from her and gives it to the patrol officer, "Here, take this. Dispose of it... somewhere. Just not anywhere where it'll get mixed up with the real evidence."

That said, he sits down on the porch next to Sara and offers her a tissue he's pulled from his pocket. "Careful, I might've already blown my nose in that one."

When his comment doesn't get a response from Sara, aside from the sniffling she's already doing, he puts his hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay Sara?"

"No, um, do you think you could have one of your officers take me back to the lab? I'm not feeling too well; I think I need to go home."

Brass' face wrinkles with concern, "Are you sure? This'd be a first, Sara Sidle wanting to leave a crime scene early."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm not up to working the scene now; I almost lost control there in the house and contaminated an entire room full of evidence."

"Sure Sara, no problem. I'll take you myself." He stands up and then reaches a hand down to give her a lift up. They walk slowly over to a squad car and get in. A minute later, they pull out of the driveway and head off, back to the lab.

Inside the bathroom, Catherine is having a hard time keeping her stomach down as well. Kids always get to her. Right now, if she had her choice, she'd be at home with Lindsey, just looking at her innocent face, making sure that she was okay and that she was still the beautiful, life-filled child she had sent off to school this morning. Instead, she gets Grissom—a sweaty-faced, panting Grissom.

"So much for wishful thinking," she mutters under her breath.

"What...?" Grissom wheezes.

"Nothing."

"What've you got?" he said, moving in closer for a look.

"Gil Grissom, meet the late Mrs. Carmichael, and her young son. Sara found him when she pulled back the curtain."

Grissom looks up at Sara's name. "Where is Sara?"

"You didn't see her on your way in?"

"No...should I have?" he asks, confused.

"After she found the body, she ran out of here looking like she was going to lose her breakfast. I figured you'd have seen her in the hallway or something."

But Grissom doesn't hear anything after the words _lose her breakfast_. "She contaminated evidence? That's just great, wonderful, perfect. Now, if we manage to catch whoever did this, there's a good chance that the case'll get tossed out. Couldn't she have managed to hold it in for a few seconds?"

He turns and begins to leave in search of her, but Catherine grabs his sleeve. "For God's sake, Sara Sidle doesn't contaminate evidence. She'd give up her badge before allowing that to happen. You know that, Gil."

"I don't know anything anymore. The way she's been acting for past few days, I'm not sure if she's even _Sara_ anymore. When we started this thing, this ... relationship, it was good. Now she's hiding things, I know she is. She's not telling me everything, she's not happy. I think she's getting ready to leave me." His fists clench into tight little balls and the line of his mouth is set hard against the thought.

Catherine sputters for a moment, "No, no, Gil, she's not leaving you. Trust me, she's..."

Grissom looks at his friend and says, in all seriousness, "I know she's not going to leave me. Because I'm not going to give her the chance. I'm going to let her go first, so she doesn't have to feel guilty about moving on. I want her to be happy, Catherine. She was talking about kids this morning, and I could feel that deep down, no matter what she said to the contrary, that she wanted them. I can't give her children Catherine. She deserves to be with someone who can, and I'm going to make sure that she has the opportunity."

She grabbed at his arm, afraid that he would leave right now to do what he was saying.

"Gil. You can't, you can't do this. Trust me. Go home, talk to her, but don't push her away. You can't push her away." Catherine pleads with him, a tear visible in the corner of her eye. _If only these people would get a clue!_

"Why? Why, Catherine? I knew when we started this that eventually she'd move on, that she'd need more than I could give. I just never thought that day would come so soon. I can't keep her close to me when I know that it's killing her inside, every time she looks at me lately there're tears in her eyes. So, tell me Catherine, why shouldn't I cut her loose?"

"God! You know, for being the most intelligent people I know, you and Sara are idiots when it comes to each other. You can't push her away because she's PREGNANT, you twit. Because she's pregnant with your child and too terrified to tell you, too terrified about how you'll react."

Grissom's eyes are wide; his clenched fists are slowly opening. He's barely breathing. When he finally speaks, his voice is high, and wavering, "Pregnant? My Sara?"


	7. Ain't that a Kicker

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Ain't that a Kicker

Summary: Sara tells Grissom

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I now have about 52 bucks in my savings account but if CBS and Bruckheimer really want it they can have it. As long as _Butterflied_ turns out to be as awesome as it's sounding. However, if they do take my cash, they'll have to live with the fact that no one will be getting any Christmas presents this year.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

**Apparently, I cannot write longer chapters. I tried, I really did. But it just doesn't work. I suppose that for some people--those with the attention span of a gnat, like myself--this is a good thing. But for anyone else who doesn't like short chapters, I'm sorry.**

_And, on with the show:_

_ "Pregnant? My Sara?"_

For a moment, Catherine takes pity on him--this pale, frail-looking man standing before her--but then decides to push him just a little farther. She moves up to him and puts her hand on his arm, which is trembling beneath his shirt.

"Yes, pregnant. Your Sara, with your child. Now do you see why you can't push her away?" Catherine looks up into his eyes, which are troubled and focusing on something in the distance. She follows his sight line and sees that he's looking at a picture of the formerly happy family that lived here. She gives his arm a squeeze, "Hey, it'll be okay."

"No, you don't know...I told Sara this morning that I didn't want children, ever. Oh, God. She was trying to tell me this morning and all I did is tell her that I didn't..." He looks around furiously, "I think I'm going to..."

Catherine begins to pat his shoulder. "You're going to be fine. Go find her, go talk with her, and work everything out." She guides him out of the bathroom, and almost into Brass.

"Just so you know, one of my officers just took Sidle home. She actually asked, so it must've been serious, whatever bug she's got."

The only thing that registers with Grissom are the words _Sara _and _home_. He takes the keys offered by Catherine and walks toward the door, not acknowledging Brass or Catherine on his way out. Once he was out of sight, Brass nudges Catherine and says, "Those two make a cute couple, don't ya think?"

Catherine is stunned. "You know?" she asks, amazed.

"Well, I kind of walked in on them in Grissom's office once; they were on the couch. Before anything serious got going but it was pretty embarrassing for the three of us, especially since Grissom still had one hand up Sara's shirt and the other making its way into her pants. It was kind of hard for them to deny that anything was going on then."

She looks over at them, "It'll be even harder soon. She's pregnant."

He grins, "Well, ain't that a kicker?"

She grins back, "It will be, it will be."

Grissom's quite lucky that he didn't have an accident on the way back to his, no their, house. He doesn't remember the drive at all; he was preoccupied with other thoughts. Images of Sara wouldn't leave his mind--Sara in bed, Sara under him, Sara in the shower, Sara in the kitchen, Sara asleep at his side. He can see now how she's changed in the past few months, how her body has changed and her moods. If only he had paid closer attention, maybe, maybe what? Maybe he'd know what to say to her; maybe he'd know how to feel.

He sits in the car for a few moments after turning the engine off, just collecting his thoughts, preparing himself. Finally, with a glance up to the window of their bedroom, he gets out and heads to the door.

Inside it's quiet. Normally when he gets home after her, there's music blaring from the speakers of his stereo. She knows he enjoys it, though he complains that he'll lose his hearing again. Today, there is no music. He wonders what this means.

After searching the first floor, he makes his way up to their bedroom, knowing that he'll find her there; hoping that she'll be asleep so that he can have a bit more time to collect his thoughts. But when he opens the door, he knows that hoping is fruitless, she's awake. And it's not quiet up here.

She's sitting on the floor, wrapped in a towel, hair falling wetly down around her face, leaving drops of water to mingle with the tears she's crying. Griss isn't sure if he should back out—she hasn't seen him yet—and come back later when she's done crying, or go in and comfort her. The problem is that he doesn't know how to deal with these tears. He can handle Sara's angry tears, he can handle her happy tears, and he even can handle the miscellaneous tears that she just seems to break into sometimes. But he's not sure that he's equipped to handle the hot, silent tears she's crying now.

Mind soon made up, he goes to sit on the floor next to her and gathers her into his lap. Her head searches out the curve of his neck and she leans into him, crying harder. Soon his shirt is wet with her tears and his legs are beginning to cramp up, but they don't move from their spot at all.

A long time later her tears finally stop and her gasping breaths slow down. He continues to rock with her on the floor, rubbing his hand up and down her back, her leg; every now and then softly planting a kiss on her wet head.

She shifts in his arms and sits to look into his eyes. Her face is puffy and pink, her eyes red and baggy. He thinks that she's beautiful, but if he tries to tell her, she'd likely think him teasing and get upset. He leans his head in, his heart pounding with the secret they share but cannot acknowledge, and kisses the last lone tear that is making its way down her face.

She sniffles, and then, "Griss…?"

"Mmmhmmm?" He can't help it, he stiffens a bit.

"I'm pregnant." It sounds so final to both of them.

"I know."


	8. Time

Author: Darlaranger

Story Title: Love Changes Us

Chapter Title: Time

Summary: They both need a little time.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally. I now have about 52 bucks in my savings account but if CBS and Bruckheimer really want it they can have it. As long as _Butterflied_ turns out to be as awesome as it's sounding. However, if they do take my cash, they'll have to live with the fact that no one will be getting any Christmas presents this year.

Spoilers: As I plan to ignore pretty much everything that actually goes on during the episodes, I'd say you're pretty much safe here. I'll warn people if that changes.

**Ahh****, the angst.**

_And, on with the show:_

_"I'm pregnant." It sounds so final to both of them. _

_"I know."_

Her head snaps back so that she can look at him again, "You know? How on Earth can you...Catherine."

He nods to confirm her suspicions.

"Why did Catherine tell you?" she says angrily as she pulls away from his lap.

"Don't be mad at her, she was just trying to protect you. It just kind of slipped out."

She stands above him, hands on her hips, towel forgotten and fallen away. He can see the changes now--the weight she's gained, the bigger breasts, the slightly wider hips, but most importantly, the very tiny bump above her pubic hair--and he wonders how he could have missed these things.

But Sara cuts into his reflection, "What do you mean 'she was just trying to protect' me? How? And from what?"

Grissom stands now, on wobbly legs, takes a deep breath, and says, "From me."

"You?"

"Yes, me. I thought you were going to leave me--you've been so different lately, so unhappy. I know better now, but originally I thought that you were getting ready to run out. I wasn't going to let you do that and feel any guilt, so I was going to push you away so that you could start over, without looking back." He took her hands in his and pulled her close again, wrapping the warmth of his body around her.

"You were going to get all Grissomy and pull back in your shell, letting everyone else deal with the problem?"

"I suppose it could be interpreted that way."

"And now?"

"Now what?"

She pulled her hands out of his and took a step backward, "And now, are you still planning on getting all Grissomy? Are you going to step out of the picture or push me, push us, out of your life because it doesn't fit in with what you planned?"

He paused, knowing that there was a right answer hidden somewhere in his heart but was unable to dig up the words. "Now? Now I'm not sure. I don't know. I've never been told, I mean, I've never been a father before. I don't know what I'm going to do, I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, or how I'm supposed to act. I think I need some time to think it out."

Her shoulders dropped again, her head slumped down a bit.

"You need...time?"

"Yes."

"Time?"

"Yes."

Sara reaches down and grabs the towel near her feet. She quickly wraps it around herself and neatly tucks it closed. "Fine. Go take your 'time.' Go think whatever you have to think out, out. Just remember, by the time you figure it all out, by the time you collect your thoughts and your feelings and your actions, it could be too late for you to make any difference."

With that, she turns around and goes into the bathroom again.

Grissom stands for a moment, digesting what had just happened. Then he too turns and leaves the bedroom. Finally there is nothing in there but the wrinkled bed, just a memory of the morning.

Grissom sits in his office at his desk. He's supposed to be working but his mind's as far away from work as it could possibly be. It's with Sara, and he's imagining her with their baby in her arms.

Suddenly, his quiet sanctuary is compromised—the door opens and Dr. Robbins walks in.

"Gil, I've been trying to page you for an hour. Ecklie is down in my office spouting some story about your threesome being his shift's case now? I told him that before I'd let him near the results I'd need to hear from you. Where have you been?" He takes a closer look at the other man, notices the blank stare of his eyes, the pale color of his face, the worry in his eyes, and asks another question, "Are you okay?"

The doctor takes a seat on one of the quite uncomfortable chairs across from Grissom's desk.

"No. I don't think I'll ever be okay again."

"Oh, really? I thought your hearing was getting better. Isn't it?"

Grissom leans forward in his chair, "Sara's pregnant."

The Doc is quiet for a moment, trying to absorb this information, "You had to know that eventually she'd get over you and move on, get a life of her own. You should be happy for her Gil."

"With my child, it's my child, Al." He folds his fingers over each other like he's praying, and maybe he is.

"Then congratulations are in order, never thought I'd live to see the day you became a father." The Doc leans closer, observing the quiet man, "You don't look too happy about it though. Should I put a hold on the streamers and cake?"

Grissom attempts a laugh, but it's futile. He's not ready to make jokes about this yet.

"Al, I'm too old to be a father. I'm 46 years old; I would have no idea what to do with a child."

The Doc sighs and says, "Gil, those are two completely different issues. Do you know how old my youngest is?"

"Hmmm?"

"He's 15. When my wife told me she was pregnant again, I thought that there was no way I would be able to keep up with another child, much less be the father it would need. But then he was born and with one look at him, I knew it would be okay--because already I couldn't imagine my life without him in it. I know you're probably worried Gil, but really, no first-time parent has any real clear idea on what to do with their child once it's born. Even experienced ones have moments of panic the first night they bring the kid home. Fear is a normal part of parenthood, but so is love. All you've got to do is remember the love that created them.  It'll work out."

Grissom is silently looking around, seeing Sara everywhere.   

"Gil, I wouldn't worry about the _maybe's_ or the what _if's_ right now. If I were you, I'd cut out of work early, grab a bouquet of flowers and maybe something sentimental for the kid and go see Sara."

Grissom nodded his head, "Except for the fact that Sara's very upset with me right now, that sounds like an excellent idea."

"Why is she upset?"

"Because she told me she was pregnant and I told her I needed time to think about that. I've been sitting here for the past hour thinking about what I should do."

"Do as I said, go pick up something special for her, and then go home and make sure she knows how special she is to you. Use words like _I'm sorry_ a lot."

Grissom laughs then and stands up, "Thanks, I think I will do that." He reaches for his jacket and begins to shrug into it, "Oh, yeah, and Doc? Ecklie can have the case. With Sara out right now and me pretty much incapacitated myself, it's too big of a case to handle with just a bare bones staff."

The Doc nods and follows Grissom out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Good luck."

"Thank you."

Grissom opened the door to the house quietly, trying to balance the giant bouquet of flowers in one hand and the stuffed caterpillar in the other. Like earlier, it was silent. This time Grissom was happy to be greeted by the silence. Maybe that meant that Sara was asleep--she could use the rest.

He climbed the stairs, toeing off his shoes at the bottom, flowers and toy still in his hands. The flowers almost blocked his view, so much so that when he entered the bedroom, he didn't see anyone in there.

But then he put the flowers down and saw that there was, in fact, no one in the room. There was nothing but a note upon the bed.

Grissom put down his objects carefully, making sure that nothing spilt onto the carpet or on the caterpillar. Then he went over to the bed to pick up the note.

It was addressed to Grissom, and it was in Sara's handwriting.

He opened it and skimmed it, but nothing registered except the words _leaving_ and _San Francisco__._

She left him.


End file.
